


The Lovely Smell of Treacle Tart and Home

by Annette_ConAsra69



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Scents & Smells, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22694434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annette_ConAsra69/pseuds/Annette_ConAsra69
Summary: Harry had a habit.Strange as it was, Harry already found it ingrained in him, whenever he met someone or went someplace new, to smell.And nothing quite smelt like his boyfriend.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65





	The Lovely Smell of Treacle Tart and Home

Harry had a habit. 

  


Some would say it was a very strange habit. 

  


He would honestly agree, but it truly didn't matter nevertheless. 

  


Strange as it was, Harry already found it ingrained in him, whenever he met someone or went someplace new, to _smell_. Whether it was a newly-brewed cup of coffee or an old lady he passed by who stood close enough for him to catch a whiff of her shampoo's scent, or perhaps the couch he dropped himself on whilst he was lounging in libraries, they all fell victim to Harry's nose. He had practically smelt all scents that existed around him, both the good and bad ones. 

  


But nothing quite smelt like his boyfriend. 

  


Harry had gone to all kinds of perfume shops, muggle and wizarding alike, ranging from those that cost six figures to those that barely cost a cent. He had roamed through all kinds of stores to catch a whiff of each shampoo, each body-wash, each _anything_. But alas, and perhaps fortunately so, he came up with nothing. 

  


So one day, he confronted his boyfriend about it, asked which shampoo, body-wash, face maskers and perfumes he used. Hell, he even asked the detergent used for his clothes, because Harry was utterly mad about his smell. 

  


But still, despite trying them all out, Harry still smelt different. 

  


Because Draco Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, as corny as it sounded, smelt like _home_. And nothing could compare. 

  


It didn't take Harry long to realize the very intoxicating and maddening smell didn't come from whatever liquid his blonde boyfriend sprayed on his clothes every day, but it was Draco himself. Draco was so very special, so very lovely, so very fragrant. And besides, Harry would be fucked—and probably very fucking angry—if he actually found something that smelt as exotic, dangerous, warm, lovely, and home-y as his Draco. 

  


But today, Draco smelt different. 

  


Harry could sense it in every corner of their home. Don't get him wrong, he smelt as aromatic as usual, but his snake had used a different perfume and Harry… didn't know how to feel about this particular change. He didn't dislike the new perfume, no, (as if he could ever dislike that Draco personally handpicked anyways,) but he had gotten so used to the old one, had made beautiful memories with it. It seemed sad to part with it. 

  


Once again, he got reminded of how _weird_ his habit was. 

  


However, there was also something _weird_ about this new perfume. A strange feeling of familiarity, even though it was as unique as perfumes go. Yet another smell that Harry had never picked up before. 

  


It didn't take long for Harry to realize that his snake had prepared something. After all, the subtle glances (Draco was a drama queen; if he seeked attention, he'd get it. And he was a sneaky git; Harry wouldn't notice if he _really_ wanted to be unseen) and the strange expressions (Harry really couldn't describe this. He was as clueless as they came) were quite the hints. He just had no idea what. 

  


As close as Harry had been to getting into Slytherin, Draco was the person who the hat shouted, "Slytherin!" to despite not having touched his head for even two seconds. So obviously, the brunette couldn't compare when it came to sneaky plans and such things. 

  


Therefore, obviously the only answer was to confront the blond about it, so that was what he did. 

  


After the third day of Draco's perfume change, Harry came up to him straight after shower, just while the blond was done using his clothes, and he asked, "What fucking perfume are you using?" 

  


Draco was neither surprised at the sudden confrontation nor the use of curse words so early in the morning. Another hint that he was preparing something. Apparently, he found his boyfriend's clueless desperation ridiculous as he started dissolving into a fit of giggles. It only took as long as saying 'fucking perfume' before it turned into a full-blown out laugh. 

  


As much as Harry loved and appreciated (it took a lot of trust before Draco would laugh so freely, without all the facade and ill-intended snark) his laugh, he really wanted—needed—to know the answer. So, he let himself a tiny smile before putting back his strict mask, making sure Draco didn't see his slip-up. 

  


He was desperate. It was simply a mystery he had to solve or else he'd die unsatisfied. And luckily, Draco was willing to explain, albeit with a flirty grin that Harry should've realized hid something behind. 

  


"Harry, you poor, clueless little thing," the blond chided with a smirk. "Unknowing of the tragedy about to be bestowed upon you." 

  


"Stop speaking in riddles," Harry said, rolling his eyes. 

  


"And you can't even stand the big words. They're not even _big_ ," Draco continued, entering a weird state of monologue and completely ignoring his boyfriend's existence, as per usual every time he wished to mock Harry. Even so, he still addressed Harry, "Dearest Potter, I came upon this perfume in an online shop and decided to buy it—because muggles make the most curious things," he said while he rummaged through his large dressing table, "And viola!" 

  


Harry Potter looked at the (somehow) heart-shaped bottle filled with pink-ish perfume which had just been shoved into his hand. He looked and stared and glared. And finally read, "Treacle… tart?" 

  


Where was the cruel plan and the tragedy about to happen to him? He didn't see any evil within this container of treacle tart… 

  


"I've heard it's your favorite food," Draco announced as if they hadn't been living together for the last two years, as if they hadn't spent a quarter of their dates in that treacle tart shop a few blocks down. "So, I thought, being a most thoughtful partner, I shall put it upon myself: a task, a _responsibility_ , to always meet your needs." 

  


"By smelling like my favorite food?" 

  


Not for the first time, Harry questioned the logic of Slytherins. 

  


"Hm, I guess for your simple Gryffindor brain, it would seem that way, but no," Draco paused, letting out another grin. "It's as much for you as it is for me. _We_ Slytherins aren't as simple-minded as you lot, after all. I was wishing, hoping, that with this," he trailed off slowly, motioning to the perfume, "You would be interested in eating me, _devouring_ me. I'd _love_ to be eaten out sometimes, you know?" 

  


And if Draco's words and Draco's flirty, dirty grin didn't make him speechless and gaping and with a bit of a hard-on (just a bit), then Draco's away of hips and his fucking _smell_ had ensured all those and more. 

  


Harry Potter could only follow his blond prat of a boyfriend to their room, planning to perhaps buy a treacle tart-flavored lube later. 

  



End file.
